


Extra Credit

by supercantaloupe



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Fantasy High
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons Game Mechanics, Dungeons & Dragons Spell Mechanics, Fantasy High Sophomore Year Spoilers (Dimension 20), Gen, Origin Story, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercantaloupe/pseuds/supercantaloupe
Summary: The birth of the Reformed Villain Squad. Or: "the most celebrated are the rehabilitated."
Relationships: Aelwyn Abernant & Ragh Barkrock & Zayn Darkshadow, Reformed Villain Squad
Comments: 24
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set very shortly after the end of sophomore year's spring break adventure. Canon-typical language, violence, teenagerisms, bad behavior, and other content to ensue.
> 
> Dunno how frequently I'll actually get to update this but at least I have a plan this time!

“C’mon, kiddo, ‘s time to head to school,” Jawbone urges gently from the door of the wizard’s tower. Adaine dutifully shoves notebooks into her backpack, almost ready to go; she’s not the room’s inhabitant to whom he addresses his comments now. “You’ve spent enough time sittin’ around the house by yourself now, this’ll be good for you.”

Aelwyn sighs from her top bunk, already dressed casually for the day but not intending to go anywhere. “I don’t happen to agree,” she returns coolly. She avoids eye contact with him by keeping her eyes trained down on the book in her lap, rubbing the pages gently with her thumbs out of nerves. 

“I know you’re still gettin’ used to the place,” Jawbone continues, rubbing the back of his fluffy neck. It’s been just over a week since the Bad Kids (and company)’s triumphant return from their spring break adventures. “But it ain’t healthy to stay shut up in the empty manor all day every day.”

“Quit being a baby already,” Adaine teases lightly, heaving her backpack onto her shoulders. The noticeable improvement in her strength since break has made carrying her many wizarding textbooks around a lot easier now. She looks up at her older sister and raises an eyebrow, smiling. “Come on, you love going to school.”

Aelwyn grumbles and set her book aside. Quickly calculating it out in her head, she figures this battle of wills is not worth fighting -- Adaine is too stubborn and Jawbone is too concerned. “At least allow me to put on a more decent shirt first,” she sighs, conceding defeat and climbing down from the bed. Jawbone smiles. Adaine grabs a flannel shirt draped over the back of her sister’s desk chair and tosses it over, a recent addition to Aelwyn’s wardrobe courtesy of a trip to the mall upon their return to Elmville (she didn’t exactly have much left over from her previous closet). Aelwyn snatches it from the air and makes a face, beginning to pull it on over her camisole and rolling her eyes in reluctance. 

“We’re leavin’ in five!” Jawbone announces cheerfully, turning and disappearing down the tower stairs. Adaine follows. Aelwyn takes her time, but she can only stall for so long buttoning her shirt, and a minute or two later descends as well.

In the driveway Jawbone’s car is already full and running, Fig’s metal music blasting from the speakers. With the sharp increase in manor inhabitants that need to get to and from the adventuring academy together five days a week, he’d traded in his old sedan for a minivan, much more reasonably sized for the household. Nevertheless, Aelwyn still has to squeeze into the back seat between the door and her sister, now squished in the middle seat next to Kristen. Fig had evidently called shotgun already, which explained the music. Zayn and Ragh took the wayback. 

“Everybody buckled?” Jawbone asks, peering over his shoulder at the small horde of children in the vehicle to check. After receiving a variety of affirmatives (two “yes,” an “uh huh,” a “yep,” a “fuck yeah,” a vague grunt, and an excessively loud “HOOT GROWL!”), he turns back around, shifts into reverse, and pulls out of the driveway. 

“We’re listening to  _ anything _ but metal on the way home,” Adaine sighs, overdramatically so as to be heard over the speakers and the teenage chatter.  _ “Please.” _

“Call shotgun first next time, bitch!” Fig calls back, grinning broadly. 

“I literally--” Adaine starts again, then interrupts herself and shouts  _ “Shotgun!!”  _ before anyone else can beat her to it -- Ragh and Kristen were already raring to go. 

Kristen throws up a dramatic groan. “If you put on another episode of This Solesian Life, your shotgun privileges are hereby  _ revoked _ . Do you hear me, Adaine?  _ Revoked!” _

Aelwyn leans on the door and stares out the window, watching them wind their way through Elmville. She doesn’t have her crystal, she doesn’t have headphones, and trying to read now would only make her carsick; she just does her best to tune everyone else out for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Successfully arrived at school (and thankfully in one piece), Jawbone parks in the faculty lot and all the kids begin to pour out the doors, hauling backpacks and weapons along with them. Kristen, Adaine, Fig, and Ragh all call out to Gorgug, whom they spot at the building’s entrance hand-in-hand with Zelda. Fabian’s motorcycle roars into his unofficially-official claimed spot in the student lot, with him (and, amusingly, the vice principal) in tow. The teens all leave the minivan and eagerly make their way over to the building together, save for Aelwyn, who hovers by the car as Jawbone steps out and retrieves his things from the trunk. 

“You okay, kiddo?” Jawbone asks, pulling his bag out and poising one hand on top of the trunk door to close it. Aelwyn nods; she isn’t  _ not _ okay, that’s true, even if her unenthusiastic frown suggests otherwise. “Alright,” Jawbone continues, shutting the trunk and nodding to the building. “I’ll show you to my office, and then we can go talk to Arthur.”

Jawbone leads her into the building, through the front door and swinging a left down a hallway. Teenagers bustle around them, heading to their first period classes and chatting and laughing with each other as they went. A few students say a friendly hello to Jawbone, who shoots one right back at them each time, but no one seems to notice or care about Aelwyn following him along. A relief, really.

Jawbone’s office is easily identifiable among the other doors of the hallway because it’s plastered with a colorful variety of decorations: pride flags, gold star stickers, lists of scholarships for kids to apply to, book recommendations, post-it notes with jokes and motivational quotes and thank-yous written on them left by various students, a glittery handmade sign welcoming visitors to “come on in!”, a poster of a wolf howling at a moon almost entirely obscured by other items. He smiles at Aelwyn for a half second, noticing her take it all in, before unlocking the door and letting them both inside. “Here we are,” he says, dumping his bag down on the floor next to his desk. The room is just as cozy and welcoming inside as it looked on the outside, complete with a bookshelf full of knick knacks against the wall, a cushy couch across from the desk, a minifridge (featuring a “stay hydrated!” sticker) off to the side stocked with cold water bottles, more comforting papers and posters plastering the walls. Aelwyn enters, but stays hovering near the door, just taking it all in for a minute. “Y’ like it?” he asks, grinning at her.

“Yeah,” she admits. It’s like he’d compressed all of Mordred Manor into a single little office, minus all the old and creepy stuff. 

“I’m glad,” he says, nodding a little. “Worked hard to make the place comfortable You can sort of make this your home base when you’re not busy, if you want -- as long as I’m not in the middle of a meetin’ with somebody, the room’s open to anyone, and they can make themselves comfy.” As he continues, he retrieves two lunch bags from his stuff and bends down to put them in the minifridge. “I took the opportunity to pack you a lunch, too, since I figured you probably weren’t too keen on gettin’ cafeteria food?” He looks up in time to see Aelwyn make a face and shake her head, a resounding ‘no.’ He laughs. “That’s what I thought. It’ll be here in the fridge for ya whenever you want it. Lemme show you to Arthur’s office,” he finishes, standing up and brushing past her back out the door. She follows him once again out, into, and down the hall.

For the eccentric -- well, batshit insane -- old man that he is, Arthur Aguefort’s office is surprisingly  _ un _ surprising. Boring stately desk covered with boring looking stacks of paper and a boring looking crystal computer; window overlooking the front of the school; scrolls and tomes stacked neatly (yet somehow at the same time haphazardly) on bookshelves. The man of the hour is seated at the desk, absorbed in writing on some paper before him. 

“Heya, Arthur!” Jawbone greets cheerfully, giving one friendly knock on the door before letting himself in. Aguefort looks up and smiles at him, standing.

“Jawbone, my good man, what brings you to the office so early?” He catches sight of Aelwyn behind him and his eye glints mischievously. “What’s this, a pupil already in need of  _ disciplinary action?  _ And before first period, no less!” He laughs. 

Aelwyn makes a face. “What? I don’t even  _ go _ here.” 

“Arthur, this is Aelwyn Abernant,” Jawbone corrects, gently urging the girl to step forward with a hand on her back. “Y’know, Adaine’s sister? Fugitive of Fallinel, prospective new citizen and good-guy-in-progress, Aelwyn?” he continues prompting. Aelwyn keeps herself still, although she has to admit to herself that ‘fugitive of Fallinel’ is kind of a badass title. 

The memory evidently sparks in Arthur’s mind, and his eyes and smile broaden in recognition. “Ah, Miss Aelwyn Abernant, yes!” He comes out from around the desk and walks over to give her a hearty handshake. “It’s good to meet you! I’ve heard plenty about you, you know.”

“We’ve met before, sir,” Aelwyn replies, raising an eyebrow. 

“Did we?”

“Yes? My sister introduced us on Leviathan like two weeks ago?”

“Hm,” Arthur says, barely considering this. “Well, whatever! You’re here now, and that’s what counts. Here,” he continues, turning around to swipe a pad of paper from his desk with a list of tasks on it and hands it to her. “You can get started on these this morning. They probably won’t take you all day, you should be able to squeeze them in between your classes.”

“I don’t go here, sir,” Aelwyn reminds him and narrows her eyes. A beat. “I’ve never been here before.”

“No?”

Aelwyn shakes her head. “I went to Hudol.”

“Ah! Well, congratulations on the upgrade,” he says. “Feel free to pop in on any classes you want. See what all the fuss is about. Check in with me when you’re done with the list,” he finishes, gesturing again to the list. And with that, he strides past them out the door and down the hall.

Aelwyn looks down at the to-do list she’s been given and grumbles. “Do I really have to do all this?” she complains.

Jawbone pats her back. “Beats sitting alone at home all day, kiddo.”

“Again, I  _ cannot _ say that I agree.”

“It’s good for you to be getting out of the house and interacting with other people, Aelwyn,” Jawbone reminds her. 

She waves the pad of paper in the air. “One of these tasks is to  _ make him tea. _ I’m not here to be a personal assistant. I’m not even being  _ paid.” _

“Think of it as a head start on the community service to make up for all the stuff that went down last year.” He raises a brow at her, choosing his words carefully so as to be convincing but not offending. She still seems reluctant and stubborn, so he softens his voice and tries again. “Arthur’s doin’ us all a big favor by helping to secure your amnesty, kiddo. The least you can do is help out around his school when he asks. Is there really anythin’ so bad on that list?” Aelwyn purses her lips and looks it over again; there are maybe a dozen tasks asked of her, and none seem particularly time consuming or labor-intensive. The hardest part will be finding her way around the unfamiliar school building. She shakes her head no; Jawbone pats her on the back again. “Here, let’s go back to my office. I’ll draw up a map for you and show you around.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ragh bursts in through Jawbone’s door in a determined sort of ire. “I can’t fucking  _ believe _ it, Jawbone, it’s just  _ gone,” _ he complains, emphatically gesturing with both his hand and his polearm (and almost taking out some of the room’s decor in the process). “I literally keep it fucking locked up, dude.” As he rants he makes a beeline for the minifridge, bends down, opens it up, swipes a mini water bottle, stands back up. He pops the top off and downs half the bottle in one go. “And I can’t find it  _ anywhere, _ man, it’s freaking me out. I need my bl--” he continues, but interrupts himself when he finally looks around the room. “...You’re not Jawbone.”

“Astute observation, Barkrock,” Aelwyn answers, raising an eyebrow at him. She sits (really lays) sprawled out on the couch, with her legs kicked up over one of the arm rests and her back leaning on the other, with a book in her lap. Jawbone is nowhere to be seen.

“The hell are you doing here?” he asks, confused. She holds up her book to answer the question. “Oh. Where’s Jawbone?”

Aelwyn shrugs. “I don’t know. In a meeting or something.” She purses her lips. “Don’t you have class?”

“I have a free period right now.”

“Lucky me. Do you just barge in here like that all the time?”

“I mean,” Ragh sets his polearm down to lean against the bookshelf and plops himself down on Jawbone’s spinny desk chair. “Not  _ like that _ all the time, but I do see Jawbone a lot. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Mm. No.” 

“Dammit,” Ragh sighs, holding the water bottle up and pressing it to his forehead. It’s refreshing and cool; he always gets too hot when worked up. “I really need to talk to him about something.”

“So I gathered,” Aelwyn says, not looking at him. She turns a page in her book. 

Despite her making her disinterest clear (or attempting to, anyway), Ragh explains. “I’m just really fuckin’ pissed off ‘cause someone broke into my gym locker and stole my blanket and I dunno what to do about it. I figured Jawbone would have a clue. He’s usually pretty helpful.” When he finally actually looks up again, he notices Aelwyn staring at him oddly, no longer absorbed in her book. “...What?”

“You lost a  _ blanket?” _

“Yeah, dude, I keep my baby blanket in my gym locker,” he answers, like it’s obvious. 

Aelwyn snorts, stifling a laugh. “What, the big strong jock needs his  _ baby blanket _ for comfort before the big game?” she mocks.

“Fuck  _ off, _ dude,” Ragh shoots back, the flimsy plastic water bottle crinkling in his tightening hand. “My mom  _ made _ it for me when I was little. I love my mom. It’s like a fuckin’ good luck charm, dude.” He looks pointedly at Aelwyn, who studies him back, no longer laughing derisively. “I wanted to bring it back home to Mordred since bloodrush and wrestling seasons are over, and I’m gonna be graduating in a couple months.”

“And to get it  _ washed, _ I hope,” Aelwyn adds. Ragh shrugs.

“Whatever. Do you want to help me look for it?”

Aelwyn blinks. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Reading.”

“So you’re  _ not _ busy.” As she squints at him and opens her mouth to retort again, he continues, cutting her off. “Come on, you look bored. It’s something to  _ do.” _ She pauses to consider this. He tries again. “You’re trying to be a good person now, right? I think giving someone a hand is a good-person thing to do.”

She raises an eyebrow.  _ “You _ know about being a good person?” 

Ragh smirks. “Helped save  _ your _ ass back in Fallinel.”

Aelwyn thinks for a brief moment before sighing reluctantly and shutting her book. “Fine,” she says, swinging her feet down onto the floor and standing. “You wore me down.”

“Hell yeah!”

“Only because I have nothing better to do right now,” she gives him another look and points at him. 

Ragh stands, downs the rest of his water, and tosses the empty bottle into Jawbone’s recycling bin. “That’s what I like to hear, hoot growl!” He grabs his polearm again and heads out the door.

Aelwyn rolls her eyes and huffs. “Don’t make me change my mind,” she says, following him out.


	4. Chapter 4

Ragh leads the way to the boys’ locker room. It being the middle of a class period, there’s hardly anyone in the halls, no one to get in their way. (Not that that would’ve bothered Ragh at all.) At the door to the locker room, though, he pauses.

“What?” Aelwyn asks, her arms folded.

“This is the guy’s room,” Ragh states.

“So?” 

“You’re...y’know…” He awkwardly gestures to her. 

Aelwyn rolls her eyes. “You act like I’ve never seen a half-naked dude before.” She brushes past him and opens the door, letting herself in. Ragh blinks, unsure how to respond to that, before following her in. “Which locker is yours?”

“Don’t breeze past that, Abernant,” Ragh says. It was probably one of the first interesting things she’s said to him, there is no  _ way _ he was going to pass that up.

“Do you want my help or not?” She turns and narrows her eyes at him. 

“Fine. I’m 119. Over there,” he says, gesturing to a bank of lockers. “But don’t think we’re not continuing this convo later.”

“If you say so.” Aelwyn shakes her head dismissively and walks off to where he’d pointed out. “Don’t even know why you’re so worked up about my being here. There’s no one here.”

“It’s the middle of the class period,” Ragh points out. “So we’ve got like…” He quickly pulls his crystal out of his pocket and checks the time. “Twenty three minutes before people start coming through here again, so maybe we should, uh, hurry up?”

“Do you really think it’s going to take twenty minutes to check a locker?” Aelwyn shoots back.

“I don’t fuckin know, man,” Ragh exhales. “If it’s not there it could be  _ anywhere, _ and if it’s missing then that means someone  _ took _ it, and I don’t wanna deal with a fuckin’ ton of  _ people _ coming through here while we’re lookin’ for it ‘cause then they’ll know something’s  _ up.” _

“What’s up?” a third person asks. Aelwyn and Ragh both whirl around, guarded, to see who’s there. Near the toilet stalls they find their semi-transparent housemate and fellow fucked-up teen Zayn Darkshadow, hovering in his ghostly way a few inches above the floor and holding his rat familiar. 

“Sol’s sun, dude, you scared the shit out of me,” Ragh says. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Using the bathroom?” 

“This is a locker room,” Aelwyn points out, as Ragh muses aloud to himself “Do ghosts pee?”

“It has toilets in it, doesn’t it?” Zayn responds. “It’s closer than the nearest actual guys’ room to the necromancy classroom.”

“Maybe that explains the smell,” Aelwyn grumbles, turning back to continue searching the lockers for 119. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Zayn asks, floating over out of curiosity.

“Aelwyn’s helpin’ me look for my baby blanket, dude. It went missing.” Aelwyn stops at the correct locker and steps aside to let Ragh fiddle with and open the lock.

Zayn makes a face. “Your  _ baby blanket?” _

Ragh throws his hand up. “What’s with all the judginess, dude, seriously? Is that a fuckin’ elf thing?”

Without missing a beat, both Zayn and Aelwyn respond with a deadpanned “yes.” 

Ragh rolls his eyes and finishes entering his combination, yanking the lock off and pulling the door open. “Fine. Here. See? There’s nothing there. My blanket’s gone.”

“You mean  _ this _ blanket?” Aelwyn asks, making a disgusted face as she reaches in and pulls an off-colored crochet blanket out of a full bag of athletic gear. She holds it up and away from herself between two fingers. “Eugh.”

Ragh’s eyes go wide. “Yeah, dude! That’s the one!” He snatches it from her hands and hugs it close.

“Great, so you needed me to come down here with you to find this ‘missing’ blanket that was here this whole time,” Aelwyn states, audibly annoyed. She begins to walk back out the way they came. “Thank you for wasting my time, I’m going back to my book.”

“Huh?” Ragh says, looking confused, first at her, then the locker, then the blanket, then at her again. “No, dude, I  _ swear _ it was missing before.”

“Maybe you just didn’t see it.” Aelwyn waves a hand dismissively back at him.

“Fuck you, dude.” He pouts and holds the blanket close again, bringing it close to his face and taking a deep breath. Then he stops, and makes a face. “Wait. Something’s off.”

“What do you mean, something’s off?” Zayn asks, apparently more interested in this than whatever class he might be skipping at the moment to stick around. 

“It doesn’t smell right. Abernant, come back here.” 

“I’m  _ not _ sniffing your sweaty gym rag.”

“You could at least stop being so much of a bitch and do some magic on it for me.”

Aelwyn stops in her tracks and turns around, sneering at him. “What exactly do you expect  _ me _ to do about your stupid blanket? It probably just smells rank from sitting in your disgusting gym bag for so long.”

“Wait, he’s right,” Zayn says, interrupting their glaring match. He’s holding his hand out to bring Edgar close to sniff the blanket, and the rat looks back up at him and chirps. “Something’s up. Edgar smells something off about it.”

Ragh sticks out his jaw a bit at Aelwyn, showing off his tusks. “I  _ told _ you!”

“What, it doesn’t just smell like teenage boy sweat?” Aelwyn scoffs, but she begins to walk back out of curiosity.

“No. It smells like…” Zayn leans down and sniffs it himself. His eyes go wide a moment later when he places the scent, and he makes eye contact with the other two. “It smells like that poison tea Goldenhoarde gave to Aguefort.”

Ragh and Aelwyn both blink, at a loss for words. They exchange a look with each other.

“Well, fuck,” Ragh says.

“You’re sure,” Aelwyn asks, warily.

Zayn nods. “Yeah, man. I handled that shit for him. I got it from Johnny Spells. I remember that smell. It’s powerful stuff.”

Ragh looks down at the blanket in his hands, frowning deeply. “Why the fuck is it on my blanket, then?”

“I dunno. But it seems like something we ought to figure out,” Zayn says. 

Ragh slams his gym locker shut, slings the blanket over his shoulder, and begins walking back out of the locker room. “C’mon, let’s go back to Jawbone’s office to think.” Zayn begins to float after him and Aelwyn makes a face.

“Go somewhere else to look into your poisoned sweat rag. You’ll stink up the whole room,” she protests.

“Jawbone has scented candles, it’s fine,” Ragh says as he keeps walking. “Besides, it’s private.”

“Ex _actly._ _Private.”_ Aelwyn walks beside him, unhappy. “Aka, somewhere where I can sit and read in _peace_ and _quiet_ and not be bothered by a half orc and his stupid _blankie.”_

Ragh smirks, ignoring her objections. “Somewhere where we can work in peace and quiet together.”

Aelwyn stops. “Oh, no,” she says emphatically.  _ “We? Together? _ I don’t think so.”

Ragh huffs and turns around, squinting at her. “I bet  _ Jawbone _ would want you to help.” She opens her mouth to protest again, but can’t find the words. Annoyingly, he’s found the right button of hers to push to get her to shut up, if only for a moment. His expression softens. “C’mon. Please? I don’t know any of that magic shit.”

Aelwyn exhales heavily, half-huffing and half-sighing, and stomps past him. “Fine,” she says, shoving open the door to the locker room and stalking back through the hall to Jawbone’s office. The boys trail behind her, exchanging looks and shrugs.

“Girls,” Ragh says.

Zayn chuckles once. “Girls,” he agrees.


	5. Chapter 5

The three let themselves into Jawbone’s office with the care and attitudes of people who owned the place. Aelwyn strides in first, retrieving her lunch bag and a bottle of water from the minifridge before taking the place of authority by sitting in the desk chair. 

Zayn floats in next, followed by Ragh, who shuts the door behind them. He sets his weapon down against the bookshelf again, then lays out the blanket on the desk. Aelwyn flicks it away from where she is unpacking her lunch.

“So,” Ragh says, plopping himself down on the couch and gesturing to the blanket. “You wizards do your magic thing and see what’s up.” 

“A _please_ would be nice,” Aelwyn grumbles. She takes a sandwich out of her bag and examines it. Tuna salad. She makes a face and sets it aside. “Manners will get you far in life, you know.”

“Are you gonna eat that?” Ragh asks, pointing to the sandwich. Aelwyn raises an eyebrow at him. “Can I have it?” A beat. “Please,” he adds.

Aelwyn tosses it over to him. “Knock yourself out,” she says with a sigh, pulling out her spellbook and flipping through it. Muttering some words of arcana and subtly moving her fingers around, she follows a ritual from her spellbook and casts an Identify on the blanket. After a couple of quiet moments, the glow fades from her eyes and hands and she sits back. “Huh,” she says.

“What?” Ragh asks, mouth full of sandwich.

“You were right, it _does_ give you luck on the sports field,” she says, mild surprise on her face. “The blanket will confer improved performance or protection on any one ability or save once per day.”

“See!” Ragh exclaims, grinning and gesturing with the other half of the sandwich he has yet to shove in his mouth. “I _told_ you it works! My mom’s awesome!”

“That’s pretty significant,” Zayn comments. “Your mom _made_ that? Is she magic or something?” 

Ragh shrugs. “Maybe a mother’s love is the best magic there is,” he muses. Zayn and Aelwyn share an awkward look. “Oh. Right. Sorry,” Ragh adds, noticing.

“Just don’t let Aguefort hear you say that,” Zayn shakes his head and re-focuses on the task at hand. “So, that means there’s actual motive for someone to steal and use your blanket. The next questions are who _could_ do that, and who would _want_ to.”

“I bet it’s someone on the bloodrush team,” Ragh says, stuffing the last bite of the sandwich into his mouth. 

“Do you really have to talk with your mouth full like that?” Aelwyn sighs again, turning her attention to the crystal computer on the desk. She taps a login into the keyboard and begins to search for something.

“No one else would know about my blanket, or want to steal it,” Ragh continues, ignoring her. 

“Okay, so we should check out the people on the bloodrush team. Who all is--?” Zayn begins to ask.

“Right here,” Aelwyn interrupts, pulling up a team roster on the computer monitor. “There’s your list of suspects.”

“Great, let’s go find ‘em and get ‘em to spill the beans!” Ragh says emphatically and stands. 

“How do you expect to find them?” Zayn asks, folding his arms. “It’s the middle of the day and everyone has a different class schedule." 

“Oh,” Ragh says, deflating. “Right.”

“Here,” Aelwyn interjects again, fingers nimbly dancing across the keyboard. She opens the school’s administrative site, enters Jawbone’s login, and pulls up the class info and schedule for the first student on the bloodrush team roster. Leaning forward slightly, she squints and reads off from the screen, “Payton Thornberry’s in Advanced Unarmed Combat right now, room 104.”

“Payton?” Ragh repeats. “Oh, that kid’s legit, dude. He wouldn’t steal my blanket.”

“How do you know?” Zayn asks.

“Dude volunteers at the _animal shelter_ on weekends.”

“You can be a shady dude and still like animals, dude,” Zayn points out. 

“You don’t trust my man Payton?”

“No.”

Ragh grumbles. “Fine, we can ask him, even though it’s _not_ him,” he concedes. “Just seems like a waste of time to have to go out, find him, ask, then come back here to find the next guy.”

“Correct,” Aelwyn answers, leaning over to retrieve the papers methodically spitting out from the printer in the corner of the room. She flips them out of the tray and holds them up for the boys to see. “I went ahead and printed everyone’s schedules for the next two hours. If you’re quick you can catch a few of them before lunch.”

Ragh grins excitedly. “Hell _yes,_ Abernant! That’s what I’m talking about, let’s go!” He grabs his polearm and shoulders the door open to leave.

Aelwyn waves the papers, rustling them to catch his attention. “Hey, Barkrock, you’re forgetting something.”

“Huh?” He turns back to look at her. “I thought you were coming with?”

Aelwyn turns and looks at Zayn. “What good would I be?” 

Zayn shrugs. “You’re scary?”

“It’s an adventuring school.”

Ragh chimes in again. “The more the merrier?”

“We can probably handle it if you wanted to just stay and eat your lunch,” Zayn offers. Aelwyn glances back down at the desk, where the rest of the lunchbox’s contents -- a fruit cup, a granola bar, and a bag of chips -- sat and stared back at her.

She shakes her head, grabs her water bottle, and follows Ragh out the door. “No. Fine. Whatever, I’ll join you.”

“Your enthusiasm is infectious,” Zayn deadpans, following them out and down the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

Three bloodrush players questioned, a lunch period, and no luck later, Ragh and Zayn have go to back to class. Aelwyn picks up a couple more tasks from Aguefort or other faculty members to do, and accomplishes them with little muss or fuss. She returns to Jawbone’s office again; seated at his desk, he smiles and greets her when she walks in.

“How’re you doin’, kiddo?” he asks. Somehow his fangs manage not to be threatening. By way of answering, Aelwyn simply shrugs and takes her place back on the couch, swinging her legs up over the armrest and idly flipping through the pages of schedules in her hands. “What’cha got there?” Jawbone asks amiably.

“Some papers,” Aelwyn replies, noncommittal. She glances to the side and notices Jawbone’s expression, then feels a little bad and elaborates. “Just some students’ schedules. I’ve been asked to speak with some of them when they’re free,” she explains, trying to be detailed enough to satisfy but vague enough to be left alone. 

Evidently, it works. “Cool,” Jawbone says, nodding. Aelwyn frowns back at her papers. Jawbone clears his throat slightly and tries one more time. “I noticed you left your lunch out, kiddo,” he says. She glances over again and notices the food she’d left, arranged neatly to the side of the desk, out of the way but waiting for her. Jawbone tilts his head a little. “Did you not like it, or were you just not hungry, or savin’ it for later or somethin’?”

“Something like that,” Aelwyn answers. She feels herself sinking into the couch cushions as far as they allow and wishes she could sink just a little bit further. 

“Alright,” Jawbone says and finally leaves her be. 

Aelwyn reads in silence (switching back to her book quickly once reviewing students’ schedules became impossibly boring) for the next few hours while Jawbone works; intermittently at his desk, typing at his computer or taking a phone call or talking to a student or another faculty member, and occasionally stepping out to take care of business somewhere else in the school. A few hours later, the last class period of the day rolls around, and Ragh lets himself into the office.

“Yo, I got--” he begins, pausing as he sees Jawbone at the desk giving him a welcoming grin. 

“Heya, kiddo, what can I do for ya?” Jawbone asks, cheery as ever.

“Hi, Jawbone,” Ragh greets back. Aelwyn looks up from her book and they make eye contact. Ragh looks back at Jawbone and asks, “Can I borrow Aelwyn for a sec? I need her help with the, uh...” He steals another glance her way and makes eye contact again. “Copy machine.”

Jawbone gestures openly to Aelwyn and smiles at her. “We’re not busy with anything in here right now, go ahead.”

Aelwyn exhales, shuts her book, sets it aside, and stands. “Fine,” she says, grabbing the printed schedules she’d set aside and following Ragh out the door. Jawbone waves to them as they leave. Striding down the pretty much empty hallway, Aelwyn flips through the papers again and says, “Skipping class, are we, Barkrock?” with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, I got another free period,” he responds.

“Liar,” Aelwyn says, not even looking back at him.

He frowns. “How’d’you know?” She holds the papers out beside her and rustles them.

“I’m literally holding your schedule right here.”

“Oh,” Ragh says. “Fine, but that class is boring anyway. What, are you going to rat me out?”

“That would require that I care.” 

“Hm,” Ragh hums in response. “Well, who’s next on the list?” 

Aelwyn finally looks up from the papers, eyes scanning the classrooms as they pass by. “Gawain Helsinore,” she answers. “We probably won’t have time to find anyone else before the end of the school day.”

“Oh, _that_ dude,” Ragh snorts. “He sucks.” Aelwyn finally looks over at him, curious. “High elven fighter. He kind of thinks he’s hot shit, even though he’s only a sophomore.”

“Sounds like I’d hate him,” Aelwyn comments, and leads them to a classroom. She makes a motion for him to stay, and Ragh leans against the wall as Aelwyn dips into the classroom. A moment later, after a word with them, the teacher calls the student’s name, and he gets up from his desk and follows Aelwyn out into the hallway. She shuts the door behind him, leaving the three of them alone in the empty hall.

“What’s up?” the kid asks. His light hair is plaited back in elven fashion. Aelwyn whispers something to herself, folds her arms, and frowns at him coldly. His eyes dart from her to Ragh, trying to be casual but clearly uncomfortable. “Oh, hey Ragh, dude, what’s up?” he greets, trying to be casual.

Ragh holds back a smile for his teammate and lets his tusks do the work of an intimidating expression for him. “Cut the bull, Helsinore,” he begins, also folding his arms. It is, admittedly, much more of a display than Aelwyn's. Gawain’s eyes dart about once more. “Why’d you break into my gym locker, dude?”

“What?” the kid says, furrowing his brow and taking a small step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah you do,” Ragh insists.

Gawain’s expression hardens. “I’m not gonna stand here and just let a couple of upperclassmen harass me,” he scoffs, and tries to push past them and return to the classroom. Aelwyn grabs him by the arm and shoves him back.

“She’s not a student, genius,” Ragh corrects, raising an eyebrow. Gawain’s eyes dart again to Aelwyn.

“I don’t _go_ here. I _work_ here,” she says.

“Aguefort’s assistant, dude,” Ragh adds. Aelwyn shoots him a look. “What?”

Ignoring him, Aelwyn turns back to continue staring Gawain down, who now looks even more visibly uncomfortable. “Look, you can either tell us what’s up, or I’ll drag you down to the A/V lab so we can check the security crystal footage first, and then to detention, got it?”

Gawain’s eyes dart again, and he can no longer hide his discomfort. “No! Gods, okay,” he says, panicked. “I took your blanket. But I put it back,” he explains quickly, squirming under Aelwyn’s galre and Ragh’s building rage. Gawain holds his hands up, a weak defense. “Don’t do anything, I put it back!”

“I know that, dude!” Ragh says, raising his voice. Aelwyn lightly smacks his arm to get him to calm down before he creates a scene. More hushed, Ragh continues, “I wanna know _why_ you broke into my locker and _stole_ it, dude.” For emphasis, he leans forward and points the tip of his polearm at the elf’s throat. Gawain leans back, thoroughly threatened.

“My brother needed it,” he answers quickly, wincing. “You were gone for spring break still, I just borrowed it for a couple days, I didn’t know when you were going to come back.”

“Why the hell did your brother need Ragh’s sweaty blanket?” Aelwyn squints, mildly disgusted. 

“It’s lucky, dude,” Ragh reminds her.

“I know,” she hisses back to him.

“Everyone on the bloodrush team knows that,” Ragh says.

“Oh, what a great job of making sure it doesn’t entice any potential _thieves,”_ she retorts, shooting a glare his way as well. 

“My bro needed the luck,” Gawain answers, still trying to lean away from the polearm at his neck. “He had to arrange a really important meeting and couldn’t risk fucking it up.”

“You--” Ragh growls and begins to lurch forward again. Aelwyn grabs his arm and digs her fingers into his arm to hold him back.

_“Ragh,”_ she says sharply. He stops and looks back at her.

“What?”

“Enough. You got what you needed. He put the thing back. Let the kid go back to class,” she says coldly.

“What? No, dude, we’re not fuckin’ done here--” Ragh protests. Aelwyn digs her fingers into his arm and glares again. He looks her in the eye for a beat, then huffs. Pulling his polearm back, he instead leans in to menacingly point a finger in Gawain’s face. “Fuckin’ _apologize_ at least, dude.”

Gawain makes a weird face. “I’m sorry,” he offers. 

Not exactly pleased, Ragh nods and juts his tusks out in an ugly frown at him and allows Aelwyn to pull him away. They begin back down the hallway from whence they came. Gawain watches them go, dumbfounded for a moment, before slinking back to his class.

“What the fuck, Abernant?” Ragh asks as they walk, annoyed. “We were _getting_ somewhere with him--”

“I cast Detect Thoughts, you moron,” she shoots back. “I _got_ everything we were going to get from him already.”

“Oh,” Ragh says. “Why didn’t you fuckin’ tell me?”

“And let that snotball know too?” she scoffs. “Less than productive, that.”

“So we got it?” 

“Yeah, we got it,” Aelwyn says, exhaling. “His brother’s name's Aethelred. He needed to arrange a meeting with the tea suppliers, for some reason. He’s some kind of punk bitch. Interpretive dancer.”

“Huh,” Ragh says. “Sounds like this dude sucks.”

“Mm,” Aelwyn agrees.

“Hang on,” Ragh says, slowing down a little. Aelwyn stops and turns to look at him. “How’d you know it was him?”

“Gawain?” Aelwyn asks, furrowing her brow. “I didn’t.”

“You said we could check the security crystal footage. You knew he did it.” 

Aelwyn flicks her hand dismissively. “Intimidation tactic. I mean, I found out _then,_ it was all over his mind when we accused him. He should really learn to watch what he thinks.” She turns forward again and keeps walking. Ragh follows.

“But we could’ve checked the security crystal footage this _whole time?”_ he asks, making a face.

Aelwyn hesitates slightly. “I didn’t _want_ to,” she admits. “I think if I so much as see that little pixie twerp again, I’m going to throw up.” 

“Biz?” Aelwyn nods. “Oh, that dude sucked. He’s not here anymore. I dunno if they let him graduate or if they just kicked him out and sent him to jail or something, but he’s history.”

“Thank gods,” Aelwyn sighs and shakes her head.


	7. Chapter 7

After classes let out, the small army of Mordred Manorlings pile back into Jawbone’s minivan and make their way home. Perhaps by some unlucky roll, Aelwyn ends up squished against the door next to Ragh, who is almost objectively too large to occupy the middle seat, and yet. Music plays over the car’s speakers and over that there is a din of teenage chatter. Ragh leans over to chat with Aelwyn, covered by the noise.

“Yo, A.”

“What?” Aelwyn responds, barely glancing away from the window. 

“What’s the next step?”

“Next step for what?”

“You know.”

“The blanket?” Aelwyn asks, giving him a look. “Take it home and _wash_ it would be my suggestion, but I’m not your boss.”

“No, I mean with what we found out. With the kid,” Ragh explains, glancing around at the rest of the van. No one pays them any attention that he can see.

Aelwyn loosely swats a hand at him. “Do whatever you want. I don’t really care. Just don’t kill the guy.”

Ragh frowns. “You’re not gonna help?”

Aelwyn finally turns to look at him properly. “What would _I_ help with? We found your guy.”

“I dunno,” Ragh answers, shrugging. “But I thought you might wanna keep helping.”

“Mm,” Aelwyn grunts, turning back to stare out the window. The car winds up the backroad that ends in Mordred Manor’s long driveway, and pulls to a stop right in front of the house. “We can talk later,” she says, slightly hushed, and looking around as the van’s passengers all begin to spill out and head into the house. Aelwyn follows suit, pushing open the door and stepping out into the much-appreciated fresh air.

Ragh crawls out behind her, retrieving his backpack and polearm from the trunk. “I got homework to do this afternoon,” he grumbles, shutting the back of the van once everybody had grabbed their stuff. “How ‘bout dinner? I think my mom’s cooking tonight.”

Aelwyn waves at him dismissively again. “I’ll be in the tower,” she says, and heads into the house. Ragh frowns and jogs to catch up, following her in.

“You’re skipping dinner?”

“We’ll see,” Aelwyn answers coldly. 

“But my mom’s cooking tonight,” Ragh says. “She’s the best. Hey, Ma!” he calls, raising his voice to be heard through the house. 

The voice of Lydia Barkrock calls back. “Yeah, honey?”

“You making dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, honey!”

Ragh calls something else out, this time in Orcish. Lydia responds again in kind. He grins, and looks back at Aelwyn, who is holding her spellbook open in front of her and scowling up at him. “What?”

“You could have at least given me a _moment_ to cast Comprehend Languages,” she grumbles, closing her spellbook.

“Or you could just learn Orcish,” he suggests. “Hey, we can teach you!” 

Aelwyn makes another face and keeps walking, heading for the stairs and leaving him behind.

Arriving up in the wizard’s tower, Aelwyn is surprised to find that someone has beaten her there. “Zayn?” she asks. “What are you doing in here?”

The ghost glances over at her, as does Edgar on his shoulder. He floats about a foot off the ground in front of the tall shelves set into the walls, and uses Mage Hand to rifle through the books arranged neatly there. “Oh, hey,” he greets. “I’m looking for a book for class, Adaine said I could borrow one.” He lifts a hand to his shoulder and lets his pet rat hop on, then moves it to the shelf so that Edgar could continue the search for him. Then he floats down closer to the ground for conversation. “How’d it go with you and Ragh? Did you find the thief?”

“Did he not tell you?” Aelwyn asks. Zayn shakes his head. “Of course not. Well, we found the kid.”

“Oh yeah?” Zayn prompts, face lighting up in interest. 

“Little high elf fighter. Gawain Helsinore. Bloodrush player. Stole the blanket, said his older brother needed the luck to arrange an important meeting.”

“Older brother, huh?” Zayn says, thinking. “I’m pretty sure he went to Aguefort too...I remember another Helsinore. He was a senior when I was a freshman. Kinda punk. Tall and kinda shifty. Might've been a rogue, I can't remember." Aelwyn nods at the description. "Never liked the guy, I always kind of got the vibe he’d get into shit some day.”

“Seems like it,” Aelwyn responds, climbing up onto the top bunk and stretching out on the pillows she’d arranged against the wall. She pulls out her book and opens it up, flipping the pages to her bookmark.

“Hm,” Zayn says, taking the hint. Edgar squeaks from the bookshelves a second later, apparently having found whatever book Zayn had been looking for. He uses a Mage Hand to collect the book and his beloved familiar, and turns to leave. “I’ll touch base with Ragh, see what the next move is.” Aelwyn grunts her acknowledgement as he goes. 

Gliding downstairs and through the hall, Zayn runs into Fig in one of the manor’s common rooms tuning her bass. Kristen and Tracker share a recliner clearly designed to accommodate one together off to one side, and off to another is Adaine, hard at work on some homework with a pair of chunky noise-cancelling headphones on. Fig is the first (really, only) one to notice the ghost, and she looks up from her instrument and gives him a nod. “‘Sup, Zayn?”

“‘Sup,” he greets, nodding back. “Hey, you play at the Black Pit sometimes, right?” 

Fig nods again, fiddling with one of her tuning pegs. “Yeah, why?”

Noticing that no one else in the room seems to be paying attention (Adaine absorbed in her work, and Kristen and Tracker absorbed in each other), he comes further into the room to chat. “What kind of crowds do you usually get?”

“Good ones,” Fig says. “We usually pack the house.”

“You ever see a blonde elf dude in his 20’s, ‘bout yay tall, kinda shady looking?” He holds a hand up, floating a couple inches higher above the ground to demonstrate without reaching.

Fig shrugs. “Probably? Lighting’s not too good in there, and honestly that could be a lotta people.”

“You know that kid Helsinore kid on the bloodrush team?”

“Gawain?” Fig asks. Zayn nods. 

“Yeah. Looks kinda like him?”

Fig thinks about this. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen a dude like that at one of my shows. I dunno. We’ve been getting a lot of gang-lookin’ dudes lately.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, with like the matching jackets,” Fig says, chuckling. “I wonder where they get those. You think they’ve got like a dedicated gang member to embroider that shit for them?”

Zayn laughs along. “No shit? Cool, thanks.”

“What’s up? You thinkin’ of dropping by the Pit sometime soon?” Fig asks, smiling. “I can reserve you a ticket at our next show if you want.”

Zayn shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll just sneak in through the wall. Thanks, though.”

“Alright, yeah, fuck the man. Suit yourself. Take it easy,” she says, returning her focus to her instrument as Zayn leaves, thinking.

A few hours later, the call of Lydia Barkrock rings out through the house, accompanied by the enticing smell of freshly made chili in the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready!” Thus begins the stampede of enthusiastic and hungry teenagers from all corners of the house, and the slightly less energetic but just as hungry adults making their way to the kitchen and dining room to set the table and take their places. Ragh hefts the huge crock of stew into the dining room and onto a trivet in the center of the long dining table, as Adaine follows him with a similarly massive pot of rice. 

As she sets the rice down, Ragh looks around and does a quick head count. He frowns. “Where’s your sister?”

Adaine glances around too. Also taking note of the absence, she turns and looks up. “AELWYN!” she calls, cupping a hand around her mouth.

“WHAT?” comes the muffled response through the ceiling.

“DINNER! LYDIA MADE CHILI!”

“I’M READING!” 

“DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE AND DRAG YOU DOWN TO EAT WITH US.”

“I’M NOT HUNGRY, I’LL EAT LATER.”

Adaine purses her lips and squints. “She’s still doing this,” she huffs.

“Doing what? Being an asocial bitch?” Ragh asks, scoffing. He immediately regrets it, and flusters when Adaine turns to look at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“No. Well, yeah,” Adaine agrees, sighing. “I mean skipping meals.”

“Oh,” Ragh says. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Adaine exhales again, taking a seat and arranging her silverware neatly beside her bowls. “I mean, she used to before, but she’s been doing it a lot more recently.”

Ragh takes the seat beside her and makes a face. “Damn. Who would skip chili night?”

“You mum _does_ make good chili,” Adaine agrees.

“She makes the _best_ chili! I _specifically_ asked her to make it tonight!” Ragh gestures emphatically with his hands, then lets them drop to the table with a thud. It disturbs the silverware, which Adaine dutifully moves to rearrange. The rest of the manorlings, excepting Aelwyn, file in and take their places. Jawbone begins to ladle chili and rice into everyone’s bowls and passes them around. Zayn is the last to arrive, drifting in and taking an empty place across the table from Ragh. As he floats in, the half-orc takes notice and gestures to him broadly. “See! Even the fuckin’ _ghost_ won’t miss chili night, and he doesn’t even _eat_ it!”

“I don’t mind the company,” Zayn says, settling into the chair as best he can, being incorporeal. Edgar hops off of his shoulder and onto the table to nibble on some stray spilled grains of rice. As Ragh tucks into his own bowl, Zayn sends him a Message. _“Yo, dude.”_

_“Huh?”_ Ragh responds, looking up and across the table at him in confusion. _“What’s up?”_

_“So I talked to Aelwyn earlier,”_ Zayn begins.

Ragh snorts and re-focuses on his bowl. _“She tell you why she’s skipping chili night? I mean, who_ does _that?”_

_“No, but she did fill me on the stuff about Helsinore.”_ Ragh peeks back up at him, interested. _“What’s the next move, we tracking this guy down?”_

_“I think so. Seems real shady to me.”_

Zayn nods. _“I think I have an idea where we might find this guy.”_

_“Hell yeah, dude, where?”_

_“The Black Pit. I’ll try to find out for sure tomorrow.”_

_“We should check the place out right away, dude.”_

_“Sounds like a plan.”_ From the table, Edgar squeaks to Zayn to be picked back up. Zayn does so, holding out a hand and letting his familiar crawl cheerfully up onto his shoulder. “I’m gonna get back to my homework, I think,” he excuses himself aloud, floating out of his chair.

“Alright, kiddo, thanks for joinin’ us!” Jawbone says as he begins to go.

“Mhm,” Zayn nods back. Gliding out towards the door, he uses another Mage Hand to swipe an orange from the fruit bowl at the end of the table just before he disappears into the hallway. 

A minute or so later, Aelwyn hears someone let themselves into the wizard’s tower. “Hey,” Zayn greets.

She looks up from her book, seated still on the top bunk, and frowns unwelcomingly down at him. “Did someone send you up here to drag me down to eat?” she scoffs. “I’ve already said I don’t have any interest in eating from a big pot of meat stew with the entire rest of the house,” she continues, shuddering slightly in disgust. 

“No, I don’t really care about that,” Zayn responds coolly, rolling the orange around in his Mage Hand. “I just wanted to let you know I talked to Ragh. I think we can find the brother at the Black Pit, we wanna check it out soon.”

“You’ll need a ride,” Aelwyn points out flatly, eyes already firmly trained back on her book again. 

“Yeah,” Zayn admits. “I guess we can ask Jawbone?”

“If you want the whole house to know about your off-the-books operation, sure, knock yourselves out.”

Zayn frowns. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Anyway, just wanted to let you know.”

“Mm,” Aelwyn says. 

“Oh, and one more thing.” Aelwyn glances up from her book at him, in time to see him lightly toss the orange up at her with his Mage Hand. She fumbles to catch it, surprised. “In case you feel like eating later.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking. She rolls the fruit around in her hand, inspecting it, unexpected. “Thanks,” she adds, at a loss for other words. 

Zayn’s already turned to go, but lifts a hand to wave back at her. “Don’t mention it. Talk to you later.”


	8. Chapter 8

Jawbone’s minivan pulls into its usual spot in the faculty parking lot the next morning, and a small parade of teenagers spills out, like usual. Zayn makes eye contact with Ragh as they retrieve their respective school bags and weapons from the back of the car and head towards the building. Aelwyn strides past, evidently ignoring them for now.

“Hey, dude,” Zayn begins.

“‘Sup, Z?”

“Do we have a plan for today?”

Ragh makes a face. “Not yet, I think. We can make one. When are you free?”

“I have fourth period open.”

“Sweet,” Ragh says, grinning. “I’ll meet you in the library.” 

Zayn nods, and everybody heads inside, peeling off to their respective lockers and classrooms. Jawbone accompanies Aelwyn to Arthur Aguefort’s office, since it’s a stop on their way to his own. Aelwyn knocks once on the door before going for the handle to let herself in. Strangely, it doesn’t budge. She blinks, confused, and steps back, taking a more focused look. 

“Looks like he’s not in yet,” Jawbone comments. “There’s a note left for ya here,” he points out, removing a scroll of paper taped to the door, addressed in calligraphic handwriting to Aelwyn. She frowns and takes it, unfurls it, and begins to read aloud:

_“‘Young Ms. Abernant,_

_“‘I am leaving on a journey to the Mountains of Chaos. There’s an old sorcerer who lives in a cave out there that has some beef with me that I need to go and deal with. I should only be gone for a few days, unless he decides to try some shit. We shall see._

_“‘In the meantime, I am altering your normal list of tasks around school -- just do whatever errands teachers need you to run for them, and keep troublemakers in line. Also, check your purse, as I’ve lent you my car keys. My car is pretty old and if it doesn’t move around every few days it tends to get stuck or the engine stalls, so please take it for a drive around the block once in a while. Oh, and refill the gas tank, I keep forgetting to do that._

_“”Yours truly, Arthur Aguefort.’”_

She lowers the scroll, looking no less confused than before.

“Wow, kiddo,” Jawbone says, rubbing the back of his furry neck. “Sounds like someone’s got a car for the weekend.” He gives her a nudge and a grin. “Don’t get into too much crazy trouble, yeah?” He pats her on the back and chuckles before walking off to his office. 

Aelwyn blinks again. She reaches into her pocket with one hand and fishes out a set of car keys that she definitely did not leave the house with. She stares at them for a moment, then shakes her head, slips them back into the purse, and walks off to Jawbone’s office.

A few hours later that morning, the druid teacher gives her a stack of books and asks her to return them to the library. She dutifully obeys -- it’s what she’s good at, she thinks, or used to be -- and hefts the tomes on wild plant and mushroom identification through the corridor. She reaches the library and deposits the books on the librarian’s desk to be checked back in, then turns and notices a familiar ghost and half-orc having a scheming session together at one of the study tables by the windows. Zayn glances up and notices her, then Ragh, who shoots her a grin and waves her over. She grumbles and approaches. “What do you want?” she asks flatly.

Ragh looks to Zayn, who begins to explain. “I caught up with that Gawain kid this morning and confirmed his brother goes to the Black Pit sometimes. Checked the band roster for tonight, there’s a jazz quintet playing one of the side stages, an indie band, and a hard rock group.”

Aelwyn taps her knuckles idly on the table. “You think he’ll show for one of those?” Zayn nods.

“We wanna go tonight. You’re welcome to come with,” Ragh offers, raising an inquisitive brow at her. She grunts a noncommittal response and looks out the window. “Hmph. Well, anyway, we’ll need cash to get in…” Ragh continues, scratching his pencil on the notebook page open in front of him. 

The wall here by the entrance of the library has windows overlooking the front hall and lobby. Aelwyn begins to tune the boys out as she gazes out through it, mind wandering. She spots a pair of figures at the water fountain, chatting as they take turns getting a drink. One is short, with long blonde hair, who steps up on a provided stool to reach the fountain. She steps back and to the side when she’s done to let her companion have a turn, a taller girl with blue-tinted skin. She doesn’t so much as drink the water as let it splash and run over her skin.

The dwarf girl glances over, clocks Aelwyn staring, and frowns, unfriendly and guarded. She says something -- Aelwyn’s too far away to hear, but she can see her lips moving -- and the genasi girl looks back too. Aelwyn feels her something gnawing inside her as Ostentatia Wallace and Sam Nightingale make eye contact with her, whisper something to each other, then hurry off down the hall and out of sight. 

“I’m in,” Aelwyn says suddenly, turning back to face the boys and interrupting whatever they were saying.

“Um,” Ragh blinks. “You are?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, cool! Awesome,” he says, surprised, but not disappointed. “But we still need a ride.”

Aelwyn coolly slips her hand into her purse and produces the keys again, dangling them in front of the boys with the loop on her finger. “Taken care of.”

Ragh’s eyes widen. “No _way,_ dude!”

“Where’d you even _get_ that?” Zayn asks.

“Will you two keep your big fat mouths shut?” she scolds. “You _are_ in a library.”

“Sorry, yeah,” Ragh says, lowering his voice again. “But seriously, what the hell?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she answers. Zayn eyes her suspiciously. She shoots him a glare back. “It’s not _illicit,_ don’t give me that. I have _permission.”_

“Alright,” the ghost accepts, still eyeing her as she slips the keys back into her purse. 

“So we’re like...set now?” Ragh asks.

Aelwyn nods and raps on the table once again. “Meet out front of the manor after dinner. We’re taking off right away.”


	9. Chapter 9

After dinner that evening, Ragh announces heartily “I’m goin’ out!” His voice booming through the manor is answered by an “Alright, kiddo! Stay safe!” from Jawbone, a “Don’t stay out too late” from Sandralynn, and a “Have fun, honey!” from Lydia. Having adequately satisfied the parents, he slips out the front door and down the walk to Aguefort’s car, idling by the curb. He lets himself into the driver’s side door with a deep breath. 

“Hey,” Zayn greets from his spot in the back seat. Ragh turns to grin at him over his shoulder.

“‘Sup, dude? You ready?” he asks, looking aside at the passenger seat to his right. 

“Mhm,” Aelwyn grunts in confirmation, not looking at him. She’s focused intently on a small compact mirror, held up in front of her with a Mage Hand cantrip. With her own hands she prods gently at her face and delicately brushes on makeup, staring with great care at her reflection. 

“What are you doing?” Ragh asks.

Aelwyn pauses her work slightly to make a face, careful not to smudge anything. “What does it look like I’m doing?” she asks back. With a flick of her wrist she brings the mirror in a little closer, and begins to brush on mascara.

“It’s makeup, dude,” Zayn answers for her.

“Why do you need makeup?” Ragh continues.

“We’re going to a club,” Zayn answers again, like it’s obvious. Aelwyn waves a hand vaguely in agreement. “Everyone wears makeup there.”

“Oh. Should I?”

“Nah, you look fine,” Zayn shrugs.

“Well, _you_ look fine the way you are too,” Ragh says, frowning again at Aelwyn. 

Aelwyn sighs and lowers her hands, still staring ahead at the mirror. “I really don’t,” she says, some irritation evident in her tone. Her eyes glance around a bit, taking in more of her reflection in the mirror beyond her face. Not letting the pause grow too long, she shakes her head slightly to toss a loose bit of hair out of the way, caps the mascara, and replaces it in the makeup bag in her lap. She retrieves a tube of lipstick next and removes the cap. “I really wouldn’t have any class at all if I went out to a party not properly dressed, now would I?” she continues, recalling an old, still-familiar haughty voice of hers. “My tools may be _limited,_ but _gods,_ I can at _least_ make an _effort.”_ She puckers her lips and applies the lipstick, coloring them a red just a bit too dark for her complexion.

Ragh tilts his head, still not convinced. “Uh, where’d you even _get_ this stuff?”

“She stole it from Fig,” Zayn answers again, smiling a little in amusement. Aelwyn whips her head around to glare at him.

_“Borrowed,”_ she corrects firmly. “I’m _going_ to return it.”

Ragh snorts and turns back forward in his seat. “Sure, absolutely. We ready to go yet?”

“I am,” Zayn confirms.

“Mhm,” Aelwyn confirms too, capping the lipstick and putting it away. She examines herself once again in the mirror, brushing her fingers lightly along her neck and collarbone. The concealer she'd smeared on helps, but doesn't hide it all. She wishes she'd stocked Disguise Self earlier. Oh well. This'll have to do for now. Exhaling again, she lifts her hands to begin braiding her hair back.

“Cool,” Ragh says, shifting the car into drive. “Let’s hit it.”

The car winds its way through Elmville, headed downtown. Zayn helps give directions to Ragh, who stubbornly refuses to use his crystal’s navigation for some reason. Aelwyn mostly stays quiet and out of the conversation, and focuses on weaving her hair back into neat braids.

“Pull over here,” Zayn instructs once they’re close to their destination. “Park a couple blocks away, in case we get spotted.”

“We’re not gonna get spotted, dude,” Ragh says.

“Just do as the ghost says,” Aelwyn cuts in, giving him a look. Ragh rolls his eyes and complies, turning onto a side street and pulling to a stop next to the curb. He shifts into park and turns to look at the other two again. He finally gets a good look at Aelwyn, having had his eyes responsibly on the road for most of the drive. “Nice hair, Abernant,” he compliments lightly.

She eyes him back thoughtfully for a moment, then leans forward and reaches a hand up to rustle through his hair. “There,” she says, mussing it up in just the right way to be a rugged sort of handsome. She raises an eyebrow at him and leans back. “You too.”

Ragh grins. “Cool, thanks bro. So, how we doin’ this?” he asks. 

“I sneak in through the wall,” Zayn starts. “Ghost-style.”

“We’ll have to go in through the front,” Aelwyn continues, opening up the glove compartment and looking for something.

“Should be easy,” Zayn adds. “Bouncers are human. They have a hard time clocking elves’ and orcs’ ages. Also, you two are intimidating in two very distinct ways.”

“Hell yeah,” Ragh says. 

“I should hope so,” Aelwyn responds, casually pulling out a pistol from the glove compartment. Both boys’ eyes go wide as they lean back, surprised.

“Woah!” Zayn exclaims.

“Sol’s son, Abernant,” Ragh follows. “The _fuck_ do you have _that?”_

Aelwyn squints and gives both boys a look like they’re the crazy ones. “It’s not _mine,”_ she says, as if that helps anything.

“O _kay??”_

Aelwyn rolls her eyes. “It’s _Aguefort’s."_

“Aguefort has a _gun?”_ Zayn asks. 

“Why the _fuck_ does Aguefort have a fucking _gun?”_ Ragh asks.

Aelwyn huffs and gestures in frustration. “How am _I_ the only one here who’s not surprised by this? He’s _your_ principal!”

“He’s a fucking _wizard,_ bro! Wizards don’t use guns!”

“Why not?” Aelwyn counters, squinting. “I know _I_ don’t like to be caught in a position where I can’t cast spells.” The boys still look at her with the mildest horror. She sighs again and tucks the gun into her purse, safely concealing it. “Oh, come _on._ First you think I’ve never been to a club before, now you think I’ve never used a _weapon_ before. It’s like you have no faith in me.”

“Holy shit, dude,” Ragh says, chuckling a little as the tension diffuses. “Honestly, dude, that’s sick as hell, not gonna lie.”

Aelwyn shrugs and looks stern. “I’m not _planning_ on _using_ it,” she assures them lowly. “It’s just a bit of...insurance.”

Zayn nods, frowning. “Sure,” he says, agreeing, if still a little off put.

“Are we ready to go now?” Aelwyn asks, giving each of them a look. 

Ragh grins a little. “We’re ready.”

“Let’s go,” Zayn agrees. 

They all exit the car. Zayn floats off to sneak in on his own. Ragh clicks the key fob; the car chirps to alert that it’s locked, then shimmers and goes transparent, nearly invisible.

“Um,” Ragh says, blinking at it. He glances at Aelwyn, who shrugs.

“Some kind of illusion magic,” she guesses.

Ragh blinks again, then decides it’s never going to make sense and elects to move on. He shoves the keys into his pocket and the pair begin walking up the street to the Black Pit.


	10. Chapter 10

They approach the club. When the line of people out front waiting to get in becomes visible just a block ahead, Aelwyn slips her hand around Ragh’s arm and pulls herself to walk close beside him. 

“Huh?” he says, looking at her with confusion. “Uh, I’m not--”

“Shush,” she cuts him off quietly. “I know you’re gay, you never shut up about it. We’re less suspicious if you just play along.”

“Oh, got it.” Ragh adjusts his arm for her to more easily hold. Aelwyn surreptitiously guides them past the line to the front, where the bouncer looks them over. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the bouncer says to them before they can go past. He’s a brawny-looking human with thick reddish hair. “If you ain’t on the list, you gotta wait in line.”

Ragh opens his mouth to say something, but Aelwyn beats him to it. “We’re meeting his friends inside,” she says sweetly and leaning a little bit more into Ragh. “He wants to introduce me to them,” she adds, putting on an uncharacteristically charming smile.

The guy gives them both a look-over, then makes eye contact with Ragh. “You’re 21?”

“Yeah dude,” Ragh answers, sounding bored and rough, like someone you didn’t want to mess with. He feels Aelwyn muttering something very subtly against his arm before speaking up again.

“I’m just visiting for the night, won’t you _please_ let us in? His friends are waiting,” she asks, giving it a saccharine drip. The bouncer’s eyes glint slightly; then he nods towards the door.

“Alright, head on in, sweetheart. Have a nice night.”

“Thank you sir,” she says, giving him an overly bright smile before heading in with Ragh. As soon as they’re inside, she drops the act and a more characteristic frown returns to her face.

“Good gods, dude,” he says, making a face at her. “How’d you do that?”

“A well-placed Suggestion spell can get you far in life,” she answers, looking around. They enter into the first room, darkly lit with purples and indigos. There’s a band playing some kind of whiny indie rock on a stage to one side, and a bar on the other, with a small crowd of people in between. 

“I thought it was just because you’re a hot girl.”

“Well, there’s that too.” They wander a little further into the room, mostly succeeding in blending in, and scan the room for a potential target. Across the crowd, Aelwyn spies Zayn enter from another room with another stage, and sends him a Message. _“Darkshadow. You find anything yet?”_

_“You made it in?”_ he responds, making eye contact with her from across the room. She nods. _“I think so. There’s some greaser-looking dudes in the next room,”_ Zayn relays, nodding to the room from whence he came. _“Including a blond elf. Might be our guy.”_

_“Greasers?”_ Aelwyn scoffs. _“Seriously? There’s_ more _of them?”_

_“Looks like it.”_

_“Ugh. I hate this town.”_ She shakes her head and Ragh gives her a questioning look. _“Well I’ll keep my eye out for him.”_

_“I’ll keep a lookout,”_ Zayn says, and moves off into the crowd. 

“What’s up, Abernant?” Ragh asks.

She scowls slightly. “Zayn thinks he may have spotted our guy,” she says, keeping her voice low under the thrum of music. “Says there’s a gang in the next room, one of them sounds like Helsinore’s brother.”

Ragh snorts. “Elvmille’s got _another_ gang? Already?”

“That’s what _I_ said,” Aelwyn scoffs in agreement. “I thought my sister and her little friends put Johnny Spells and his goons underground a year and a half ago.”

“They did,” Ragh confirmed, laughing. “We literally saw them in hell over spring break.”

“This town is too _boring_ to warrant having this many gangs.” 

At that moment, coming in from the other room, Ragh clocks a tall, blond high elf headed towards the bar. His hair is gelled back and he’s in a leather jacket, from what he can see from here. “Hey,” Ragh says, nudging Aelwyn and pointing the guy out. “You think that’s him?”

Aelwyn narrows her eyes and takes a look. “I think so,” she confirms, nodding and disentangling herself from Ragh’s arm. “I’ll head over and see what I can get out of him,” she says, beginning to go, but turning to look him in the eye first. “You keep watch from a distance.”

Ragh nods. “I’ll make sure no one tries anything.”

Aelwyn nods once more and then goes, weaving through the crowd to the bar. Calculating, she takes a seat on a stool at the bar two over from the elf in the leather jacket, with no one in between. She tosses her hair back and leans on the counter. He glances over at the bartender, returning with his drink, and notices her, just as planned.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he coos. Aelwyn glances over at him. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She smiles, just a little, coy. “Sure,” she answers. 

The bartender returns and brings him his drink. The elf leans on the counter and says, “And a cosmo for the lady.” The bartender nods and turns away to fill the order. The elf turns back to smile at Aelwyn again. “You got a name, doll?”

“Penelope,” Aelwyn answers. She offers him her hand. He takes it and presses a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Penelope,” he returns, smooth and charming. “I’m Aethelred. You come here alone?” 

The bartender returns and places a pink drink down in front of Aelwyn. “Thanks,” she says to him quickly. “No, I actually came here with my boyfriend,” she answers to Aethelred, running a finger along the rim of her glass, along the rind of the lime wedge garnish. She can smell the alcohol from here, and expertly hides how it makes her stomach turn.

“Oh?” Aethelred says, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Aelwyn shrugs. She inclines a motion to Ragh on the other end of the room. “That big half-orc. He’s _dreadfully_ dull.”

“Aw,” Aethelred chuckles, sipping his drink. It’s something amber colored, in a short, straight glass; Aelwyn guesses whiskey. “Why stick around then, doll?”

“Well,” Aelwyn says, slightly sing-song. “He’s big and strong. And my parents just _hate_ him.”

“Ah. Well,” Aethelred says, humming slightly. He snaps his fingers to get the bartender’s attention again, then orders a beer. “I think I have an idea of another big, strong guy your parents might like a little better. Here,” he says, arching an eyebrow at her. The bartender fills a glass with beer and places it in front of him; he slides it over to Aelwyn. A little bit of white foam drips over the rim and down the side. “Why don’t you bring this to him so he doesn’t get too jealous, and then meet me on the dance floor, huh? Should still be able to enjoy yourself tonight even if he’s around.” 

Aelwyn considers this for a moment with a coy smile. “I think that sounds lovely,” she says after a beat, delicately lifting both the beer and her own drink as she swings her legs around to get off the barstool. “I’ll be right back,” she says, quirking an eyebrow. She steps down and saunters off, her smile melting away into a grimace as she returns to Ragh. “Here,” she says, shoving the cosmopolitan at him first. “Drink.”

“What the fuck?” Ragh says, confused, as the drink is thrust into his hand. “Why? You’re not drugging me, are you?”

“I watched the bartender make it, it’s fine,” she grumbles, glancing behind her back at the bar. Aethelred doesn’t seem to be watching them at the moment. She looks back at Ragh, who’s still looking confused. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re too _macho_ to drink something from this end of the color spectrum.”

“What? No, who gives a shit,” Ragh says. “Why don’t you want it? Can’t handle your booze?”

“I _can,_ thank you very much,” she corrects him, with an edge of attitude. “Nine hells, it’s like you think I didn’t do _anything_ before this year.” Ragh still looks at her, unconvinced. She sighs. “I don’t want it. I’ll be sick,” she sighs.

He eyes her. “On an empty stomach, yeah, that can happen.”

She eyes him back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it. Is that our guy?” Ragh asks, now peering over at the elf at the bar himself, and taking a swig of Aelwyn’s drink. It’s fruity, not something he’d ever order for himself, but also not something he’d say he disliked, either.

“Mhm,” Aelwyn affirms. “Gods, I barely had to _flirt_ with him to get him hooked. I just sat down and he bought me a drink,” she grumbles. “Fucking creep.”

“Damn,” Ragh agrees over the rim of the glass. “Dude’s got good taste in drinks, though.”

“Anyway. He thinks you’re my boyfriend, so at least try to pretend you don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Good, you sound like you’ve been practicing,” Aelwyn replies, glancing back to the bar. “He told me to bring you this drink to keep you distracted, then meet him on the dance floor. So,” she said, swapping out Ragh’s now-empty cocktail glass for the beer. “I’ll see what more I can get out of him.”

“Okay. Hey,” Ragh says as she turns to go. “Be careful, okay? I don’t trust the way this dude looks.”

Aelwyn scoffs. “Is this just because he’s hot? What, do you want me to give him your number?” 

“No, shut up, dude,” Ragh counters, the dim club lighting hiding something of a light blush spreading on his face. “I think there could be trouble if you’re not careful. So…” he trails off for a beat. “Be careful.”

She nods. “I will. I know what I’m doing.”

“Message me if you get anything,” Ragh says. Aelwyn holds up a hand and waves behind her as she goes, weaving back through the crowd. 

“Hey there,” Aelwyn says, returning to the bar and setting the now-empty cocktail glass on the counter. She smiles sweetly, turning back on her charm.

“Hey doll,” Aethelred greets, grinning smoothly back at her. “You ready to dance?” She nods. He downs the last bit of his drink and sets the empty glass down, then stands and offers her his arm. She takes it, and he leads her to the dance floor in the other room, where another band is playing something a little more mellow, jazzy, moody. Quickly scanning the crowd here Aelwyn spies more men in leather jackets; a few of them her new ‘date’ even nods a hello to, and give her a glance too. She tries to be coy. 

Led to the dance floor as a new song starts up, Aelwyn allows him to put his arms around her, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip. She swallows down the lump in her throat and smiles, placing her own hands on his shoulders. Aethelred begins to lead, a mockery of a formal high elven dance modernized to more fittingly suit a Solesian club. She falls into step by rote, acutely aware of his hands, the space between them, every breath she draws. 

“So,” he begins to make conversation as they dance. “You from around here?” 

“Oh, no,” she says, tossing her hair slightly. “Bastion City.”

He nods, half to her and half to the music. “You go to school out there?”

“Mhm,” Aelwyn nods back. “You aren’t planning to _visit_ anytime soon, are you?” she asks, raising an eyebrow and smiling suggestively.

“Maybe I am now,” he says, returning the attitude.

“My, how forward.” She even giggles a little. It feels strange, like she’s running on an autopilot she didn’t know she had.

“They got some kind of adventuring college down there too?” Aethelred asks, tilting his head a little.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aelwyn shrugs. “I go to Solace State. Elvish studies. I wouldn’t know about any of those _cruder_ subjects.” 

“I see,” he says. 

“Why do you ask?” she says, remarkably maintaining her cool.

He shrugs. “Just curious,” he answers nonchalantly, running a finger gently along her skin. He traces the delicately off-colored lines of scarring, branching from her arm to her shoulder to her collarbone and neck, and to her chest, poking above her tank top, lichtenberg figures. Aewyn shivers slightly, skin going bumpy on reflex, feels cold. 

“Oh, heh,” she chuckles sheepishly, looking down. “That’s nothing,” she says, her confidence slipping a little. “Just some _unfortunate_ birthmarks.” She shrugs, bumping his hand off her chest and back down to her waist where it belonged. 

“Ah,” Aethelred says, arching his eyebrows again. “I see. You’ll forgive my curiosity. My brother’s an adventuring student, and I’ve seen some of the scars he and his little party mates come home with on occasion…” He tilts his head again, and she feels his hand creep to the small of her back. “And I can’t help myself but wonder how far they go.”

“Mm,” Aelwyn hums, taking the opportunity to pull herself closer, drape one arm over his shoulder, and slip the other surreptitiously into his pocket. “Maybe sometime, if you’re lucky,” she says, letting the words languidly from her tongue. Her stomach is in knots.

“Good thing I know a thing or two about luck,” he says, leaning very close. “May I…?” he prompts, letting his eyes darting to her lips finish his question for him. She sees the opportunity and seizes it.

“You may,” she says, barely above a whisper. Aethelred leans down and presses his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. It feels foreign and unnatural to her, yet strangely and uncomfortably familiar to her at the same time. Before her head starts spinning too much, she refocuses. While he’s distracted, she digs in his pocket with her fingers until she finds a small, soft satchel of paper, wrapped with string and a little tag. She slips it out of his pocket and hides it balled up in her hand, waiting a moment long enough before slipping it into her purse. Apparently successful, she waits a few moments longer before pulling back from the kiss, trying not to arouse any suspicion. Reading his face (and the red now staining his lips, too), she thinks she just might’ve managed to pull this off.

“Phew,” Aethelred says, breathily. Finally taking his eyes off her face, he glances to the side and clocks Ragh in the corner of the room, doing a good job of keeping his distance and pretending not to be spying on them. “Your boyfriend’s a lucky man,” he chuckles. “Shame I can’t just steal you away from him right now.”

Aelwyn looks aside, notices Ragh as well, and laughs. “No, he’d probably try to kick your ass for that.” At the same time, she surreptitiously casts a Message cantrip. _“I got the tea. Find Zayn and tell him we’re leaving.”_ Across the room, the half-orc glances over, nods once, and begins to walk off into the other room.   
  


“Not a very patient man, it seems,” Aethelred comments, watching him go. 

“Maybe I should go before he comes looking for me and wants to make trouble,” Aelwyn suggests. 

“Maybe,” he muses. “Maybe I can swipe your digits off you before you go?” he adds, lifting a brow.

“Sure,” she says, smiling coyly again. She lists off a string of numbers, a haunted memory. He lets go of her and pulls his crystal out of his pockets, first tapping the number into his contacts and then tapping a text message to it. 

“There,” he says. 

“Wonderful,” she grins neatly and steps back. “It was _lovely_ to meet you,” she says, curtseying very slightly and laying it on thick. “Thank you for the dance and the drink.”

“Keep in touch,” he responds, holding his crystal up slightly and waving it at her. He smiles and gives her a wink. 

She blows him a kiss goodbye and turns to go, weaving back again through the crowd. In her head, she hears a voice. _“Did you seriously give him your number?”_ Zayn Messages. He must have been watching.

_“Of course not,”_ she retorts, the false sweetness immediately falling away like chipped plaster. _“I don’t even have my crystal back yet.”_

_“We could be in trouble once he finds out it’s a fake,”_ Zayn cautions.

_“It’s not,”_ Aelwyn assures him, wherever he is. She hasn’t spotted him yet; too focused on the ground in front of her, not crashing into bodies as she goes. Her ears are ringing. It’s a good thing Message is telepathic. _“It’s Penelope’s old number. He won’t find much use in texting a dead girl’s crystal.”_

_“Smart,”_ Zayn says. _“So you got the tea?”_

_“I got it,”_ she replies, slipping her hand into her purse and pulling the teabag out just enough to glance at it, feel it, confirm its existence in her possession, ground her back in reality. _“We should leave. Tell Ragh to meet back at the car. I’m going through a back way. Don’t be seen.”_

_“Gotcha,”_ Zayn responds and the Messages go silent. 

Aelwyn very determinedly makes her way through the club, finally finding the door she’s looking for. She shoves it open with her hip and steps in. The off-white fluorescent lights buzzing slightly overhead are a slight shock to her system after the dark and noise of the dance floor, but the women’s bathroom offers a welcome temporary refuge nonetheless. She closes the door and leans against it, taking a few deep breaths. She didn’t realize she’s shaking until now, how queasy she feels, and light-headed. She walks a few feet forward and pushes open a stall, bending down to kneel in front of the toilet as a wave of nausea washes over her. If she had anything in her to vomit up right now, she thinks she would, but nothing ends up coming out. 

After a few moments to collect herself, she stands again and exits the stall, looking around. First she runs the sink and splashes a little cool water on her face, then cups some in her hand and sip it into her mouth, trying to wash out the taste of whiskey and regret. It doesn't do much, but it was worth trying. Standing and looking around again, she finds what she’s looking for after only a quick search: a small frosted-glass window near the ceiling on the far wall. She approaches, using a Mage Hand to finagle the lock and push it open. She jumps, grabs the lip of the window, and struggles to hoist herself up, out, and safely down to the alley below. 

Her feet land on the concrete with a soft thud. She stands and turns to go. She looks up just in time to have the wind knocked out of her as a hand grabs her wrists and another roughly shoves her back, pinning her up against the wall. 

  
“Hey there, doll,” she hears Aethelred say. He approaches from the opening of the alley, grinning casually and accompanied by a few of his buddies in matching leather jackets, just like the one the burly-looking tiefling trapping her against the wall has on, too. Aethelred clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Heading out so soon? The party’s just _barely_ gotten started.”


	11. Chapter 11

Aelwyn’s heart beats heavily in her chest and her stomach turns again. Her eyes dart around. She counts three, four, five gangsters: Aelthelred, leading a group of three up the alley towards her, plus the tiefling pinning her against the wall by the wrists. She struggles against him, but he’s got some serious muscle and won’t budge.

“No somatic components,” he growls, leaning in far too close for comfort. His breath smells like cigarettes and sulfur. 

Aelthelred nods to one of his buddies, who makes a movement with his hands and says something Aelwyn can’t quite hear. She feels a pulse of arcana in the air as a spell takes effect on her. 

“What’re you doin’ all the way out here, doll?” Aethelred asks, stepping forward again, crowding her up against the wall.

“I just needed to step outside,” Aelwyn answers carefully. Her voice is guarded, but it wavers. She immediately figures out the spell the greaser had cast: Zone of Truth.

“Mm,” Aethelred grunts, looking bored. He frowns. “How dumb do you think I am, Penelope?”

“What?”

“I said, how _dumb_ do you think fucking I am?” he repeats. For the first time he takes a hand out of his pocket, producing a switchblade knife. The silvery metal glints in the light from the bathroom window. 

“I don’t,” Aelwyn says. She’s not lying.

The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him. He turns the knife over in his hands and drags a finger across the blade once with his thumb, testing the edge’s sharpness. “I don’t know if I believe you, Penelope,” he says, looking her over, unimpressed. 

“I don’t,” Aelwyn repeats, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You’re smarter than I expected,” she says, maybe hoping that the slightest bit of flattery will help her out here.

“But _stupid enough_ to think I wouldn’t catch on to your gambit?” Aethelred continues, scowling and holding up the knife to point at her neck, only a couple inches away. Aelwyn can’t keep the fear from flashing across her eyes. “You think I don’t know an _adventurer_ when I see one? Some kind of _vigilante?”_

“I’m not--” she begins, tripping over her words, hyper-aware of her composure and the Zone of Truth. She presses back against the wall as far as she can, leaning away from the blade. “I’m not an adventurer,” she protests weakly.

Aethelred squints at her. “So you _do_ think I’m stupid.” He presses the point of the knife against her skin and traces the line of her scars, down the neck to her chest, just above the neckline of her shirt. Not enough to break skin and draw blood, but almost. She regrets wearing something so low-cut. “I can spot an Aguefort student a _mile_ away,” he growls.

Aelwyn blinks. “You might want to turn around and look, then.”

“Huh?” Aethelred says, confused. He glances over his shoulder, just enough to see a half-orc charging up the alley at them, roaring with rage. “Oh, _shit--”_

Ragh collides with one of the greasers, taking him down in a Bloodrush tackle. Another is hit by a spell shot from Zayn somewhere in the dark, and immediately keels over to vomit his guts out onto the concrete. Aelwyn takes the moment of confusion to bring her knee up sharply into the tiefling’s groin, then wrench herself free of his grip as he crumples in pain. She ducks and darts to the side, as Aethelred whirls back around, looking shocked and angry and confused all at once.

“Maybe you _are_ stupid,” Aelwyn remarks. “Oldest trick in the book.”

He growls in rage and lashes out at her with the switchblade. It clashes with her abjurative ward, sending a shower of runes sparkling through the air. _“Fucking wizards,”_ he mutters under his breath and backs up a few steps. Aelwyn takes the opportunity to shoot a Frost Bolt his way. Smirking, he dodges almost too effortlessly, lunging to the side and swinging forward with the knife. He manages to slash her deeply across the arm. She slaps her hand over the wound and hisses sharply in pain. 

“You wanted to dance, doll? Well, let’s _dance,”_ he taunts, darting forward again. She ducks and weaves to avoid his attacks, although he gets another few clean slashes in before she can cast a Misty Step to blink away. She reappears near Ragh, who is busy wrestling one of the greasers (a burly human) and effectively using him as both a shield and a bludgeoning weapon against a second greaser, swinging a chain mace around. 

“Ragh!” she yells over the noise of the fight. Both Aethelred and the tiefling had recovered enough and were now sprinting towards her. Ragh makes eye contact with her and nods sharply. Then, he grabs the human greaser and whirls him around before letting go to throw him into the second greaser, knocking them both to the ground. He then turns on his toes and takes off running with Aelwyn.

“Glad we caught you in time, Abernant,” he says, huffing from exertion.

“Don’t call me that. Where’s the car?” she shoots back.

“It’s right around--” he begins, then skids to a stop. The tiefling reappears in a plume of dark smoke before them, cutting off the entrance to the alley with Aelthelred. Aelwyn doesn’t stop soon enough, and runs right into him. He wraps her in his arm tightly and presses the knife to her throat, glaring straight at Ragh.

“Don’t move or your girlfriend here gets it,” he warns.

“Don’t fuckin' touch women like that, dude!” Zayn counters, half a second before two Eldritch Blasts streak through the air and collide with Aethelred and the tiefling. 

The force knocks his grip on Aelwyn loose, and she stumbles away, gasping. Ragh charges him again, shouting, _“Respect women, bro!”_ and runs his polearm through the guy’s side. He coughs up some blood, but doesn’t look down for the count just yet (although the two ripped holes in his leather jacket offer Ragh some satisfaction). 

“Heads up!” Zayn warns. Aelwyn glances around and spots him in the sky; the tiefling does too, and prepares a spell to lob his way. Aelwyn shouts indistinctly and easily Counterspells it before it leaves his fingers, allowing the ghost to zoom out of sight. The tiefling turns back to scowl at her and prepares another spell. Meanwhile, Ragh backs up and Aethelred steels himself to keep up the fight. Thinking fast, Aelwyn reaches one hand into her bag, and with the other sends a Message to Ragh.

_“Get out of here and run.”_

She smacks him on the back and casts Invisibility; the half-orc disappears from view. Aethelred and the tiefling both look surprised, but refocus on her, as do the three further down the alley. Before any of them can close on her with weapon or spell, she yanks the pistol out of her bag, aims upwards, and shoots.

A deafening _bang_ rings out in the night.The bullet pings harmlessly off a building wall somewhere above them. Aelwyn finds herself dizzy and disoriented for a moment as her ears ring, angry at the noise -- but so too do her assailants. Before she realizes what’s happening she feels something grab her arm and drag her towards the alley’s exit. Numbly, she follows, only fully comprehending a beat later that all the greasers were still stunned.

“I gotchu,” she hears Ragh say, although she does not see him. “Where’s the car?” he asks, keeping a grip on her arm and helping her sprint out of the alley and down the street.

Aelwyn shakes off the last of her daze and slips the gun back into her bag. “It’s around here somewhere! Click the button!”

“What button?” Ragh says.

Aelwyn growls in frustration and drops concentration on Invisibility. Ragh rematerializes in view at her side. “The button on the key! Press the fucking button!” 

Ragh grunts and shoves his hand in his pocket, pulling out the key fob. He clicks the button, and a block up the street the tail lights flicker and the car chirps from its invisible parking space. The pair of teens sprint towards it and throw open the doors, practically diving inside. Ragh slams the key into the ignition and turns it roughly, trying to coax the old engine to cooperate. 

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Aelwyn urges, impatient, the adrenaline and gunshot still ringing in her ears. _“Fuck._ Oh, gods. We have to _go.”_

“I’m _trying,_ Abernant, it won’t _go!”_ Ragh growls, still raging.

_“I said don’t fucking call me that!”_ Aelwyn snaps at him acidly. She whirls her head around to look through the back windshield and spies the greasers spilling out of the alley and making their way towards the car. “We have to go _right fucking now!”_

“It’s _going!”_ he shouts, the engine finally turning over. He shifts into drive and slams his foot on the gas, causing the engine to roar under the strain. The greasers begin to close on the car, and Aelwyn can spy the tiefling preparing another spell. “Where’s Zayn?” Ragh asks, giving her a frantic look.

“He’s--” Aelwyn whirls her head around to look in panic. She’d very nearly forgotten about him. 

As if on cue, the ghost appears in a puff of shadow in the backseat. “Hey--” he starts, immediately cut off by Aelwyn whirling back around to look at Ragh and shout _“DRIVE!!”_

Both the half-orc and the car obey. They take off down the road. The tiefling greaser lobs a Fireball their way, but the car rapidly leaves them behind, out of range. Ragh keeps his eyes forward on the road as they run two red lights and skid around a corner, heading out of downtown, while Aelwyn and Zayn stare out the back and watch the danger recede and disappear in the distance. They all heave in silence to catch their breath and marvel at the fact that they’re still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't planning at first on writing + uploading this chapter on its own like this but! since i've had to adjust slightly my original update plan and it fit the day 5 prompt for the [d20alphabet event](https://dimension20alphabet.tumblr.com/post/643573819181776896/prompt-masterlist) (Escape) i thought it was as a good a time as any to throw this up now :)


	12. Chapter 12

The car peels through the dark streets of Elmville. Orange lights from streetlamps and greens and reds from stoplights streak past out the windows, briefly lighting up each teen’s face as they go by. Ragh exhales through his teeth. “Sheesh,” he sighs. “That could’ve gone better.”

Aelwyn sighs and holds up a hand, a teabag between her fingers. She keeps her other hand pressed to her upper arm and stares out the windshield. “We got what we came for,” she says, matter-of-factly, but tired. 

Ragh sniffs and glances sideways at her. “You’re hurt.”

Her frown sets in a little firmer and she returns his glance. “It’s just a scratch. You’re worse.” 

“I’m a barbarian, dude, this's nothing for me,” he shakes his head. The car rolls up to a stop sign; he quickly throws a look over his shoulder at Zayn in the back. “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m fine,” the ghost answers. Being incorporeal has its perks. Ragh turns and faces forward again and puts his foot on the gas, turning the wheel and taking the car down a cross street. Aelwyn looks out the windows and squints.

“This isn’t the way home,” she says.

“I know,” Ragh answers. Aelwyn shoots him another look. He keeps his focus on the road. “We’re making a pit stop.”

Aelwyn huffs. “Absolutely not, we’re going _home.”_

_“Dude,”_ Ragh counters, firmly. “I can _smell_ you bleeding from here. You need a heal.”

“Under _no_ circumstances are you taking me to the hospital, Barkrock,” Aelwyn growls.

“I’m _not,”_ he says, and takes another turn. The car rolls into the lot of a 6-12 gas station; he pulls into a spot and shifts into park. He exhales, and Zayn and Aelwyn can see some tension release from his shoulders. Ragh turns to look at each of them again, more gently this time. “Either of you know any healing spells?”

They both shake their heads. “Wizards don’t learn heals,” Zayn explains.

“That would require we care about other people,” Aelwyn adds flatly. Zayn chuckles.

Ragh shakes his head and rubs his eyes with the heel of a hand. “Alright. You stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.” He shoves the car door open and steps out, shuts it behind, and walks off into the convenience store. 

Silence fills the car for a moment or two. “You okay?” Zayn asks, eventually. Aelwyn keeps her head forward and down.

“I’m fine,” she repeats. She sniffs and shakes her head to toss a bit of loose hair out of her face. “I’ve certainly been through worse scrapes than this.” Her fingers squeeze a little around her arm.

“Yeah, right,” Zayn responds, sincerely. “I don’t just mean that, though.” At that, Aelwyn turns her head back to look at him. He frowns at her, and his fingers fidget around Edgar in his lap. “I used to go to the Black Pit a lot. I’ve, uh, seen guys like that before. What they get up to.”

They both let this sit for a second. “I’m alright,” she answers after a pause, slowly. “I’m sober.”

Zayn nods. The next moment the car door clicks open again, and Ragh returns. “Alright,” he begins, plopping back down in the driver’s seat and rummaging through a plastic carry-out bag. He pulls out a soda bottle of blue liquid, bubbling and lightly fluorescent, cracks the cap off, and hands it to Aelwyn. “Here, drink that down.” 

She takes it and eyes it suspiciously as Ragh pulls a second one out of the bag, opens it, and begins to down it in big gulps. “I don’t drink that sugary soda crap,” she says.

“You can put the high elf snobbery away, Ab--" he catches himself. "--Aelwyn, it’s a healing potion,” Ragh explains, screwing the cap back on his now half-empty bottle. She looks at her own again and makes a face. “I mean, it’s not the fancy expensive kind, but the cheap stuff _does_ work.” 

Aelwyn looks at it again. “Eh, fuck it.” She lifts the bottle to her lips and takes a sip. She makes a face at first at the saccharine taste, but downs half her own bottle anyway. Ragh smiles a little and goes back to rummaging in his bag. 

“What else did you get?” Zayn asks, leaning forward on the center console.

Ragh pulls out a roll of gauze and tape. “These,” he says, holding them up slightly. Aelwyn catches sight of them, swallows a gulp of potion, and makes a face.

“Oh, _no,_ you’re not,” she protests.

“Can it, dude, you’re hurt. I’m gonna patch you up,” Ragh says, pulling out a tube of antibacterial ointment.

“Do you even _know_ first aid?” she asks, displeased.

“All classes who don’t learn healing spells at Aguefort have to pass a basic first aid course,” Zayn explains. “It’s good insurance if your party healer goes down.”

“And you passed?” Aelwyn raises an eyebrow at Ragh, skeptical.

“I did,” he answers. They stare at each other for a moment. “C-,” he admits, frowning.

“I got a B,” Zayn says, sitting up to get a better view. “I’ll help talk you through it.”

After another brief staring contest with Ragh, Aelwyn sighs and turns her head to look out the window. “Fine,” she says reluctantly, positioning her elbow on the center console for their access. 

“Alright,” Ragh says. He gently guides her hand off her arm, and she tries to hide a wince. There’s a long slash in her skin, running with blood. “Geez,” he says, using a bit of gauze to mop some of it up. “You wanted to just _ignore_ this?”

“Elven blood’s real thin,” Zayn answers for her. “It’s not actually that deep. Put some ointment on it.”

It _was_ _,_ actually, but it wasn't helping anyone to say so out loud. With some guidance from Zayn, Ragh does his best to clean and patch up the worst of Aelwyn’s injuries. It’s not the prettiest bandage job any of them have ever seen, but it’s good enough for government work, and she’s no longer actively bleeding on everything, so they consider it a win for now. Sighing with exhaustion after his work and the general excitement of the evening, Ragh leans back in his seat and downs the last of his potion. “Fuck, dude,” he says, about nothing in particular.

“Mm,” Aelwyn agrees.

“Let’s go home?” Zayn asks. The other two nod.

“Let’s,” Ragh says, tossing his empty soda bottle into the back seat and turning the key in the ignition.

As the headlights flicker on and the engine rumbles to life, Aelwyn says in a soft voice, “Hey.”

Ragh glances at her sideways. “Hm?”

She stares ahead through the windshield. “Uh, thanks,” she says, awkwardly.

“Oh,” Ragh answers, glancing back and meeting Zayn’s eye for a second. “No prob. You too.”

The car shifts into drive and pulls out of the 6-12 parking lot, trundling on down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm also uploading this chapter and the next earlier than expected because they once again go with the [d20 alphabet prompt](https://dimension20alphabet.tumblr.com/post/643573819181776896/prompt-masterlist) for the day (#9: Injury, and to a lesser extent Introspection). it probably also could've gone with the previous day's prompt, but i forgot about it lol


	13. Chapter 13

The car pulls up the driveway to Mordred Manor as quietly as possible. Ragh even kills the headlights as they roll up the path so as not to be noticed, relying on his darkvision to keep from bumping into Jawbone’s minivan. Tiredly, they all three stumble out of the car and into the house. 

It’s exceptionally quiet in the manor, which only happens on rare occasions, such as very late on school nights and when half the house’s adolescents go out. (In fact, both had been the case tonight.) So they try to be as quiet as possible shuffling through the halls to their respective rooms, not at all wanting to wake anybody up (especially a proper adult, gods forbid) and have to explain themselves. 

Ragh, Zayn, and Aelwyn make it through just to the living room before they’re caught. 

They freeze, hearing approaching footsteps creaking on the wooden hallway floors.

_“Fuck,”_ Aelwyn hisses, as small a whisper as she can manage.

“‘S that Ragh?” Kristen asks, stepping into view. She’s in pajama shorts and an oversized tie-dyed shirt; Zayn wonders to himself if she owns even a single shirt that isn’t tie dyed.

“Shit, yeah,” Ragh admits. He rubs the back of his neck. “How’d you know?”

“I could see you comin’ from the hall,” Kristen answers casually.

Aelwyn squints. “How? Humans don’t have darkvision.”

“Twilight domain,” Kristen answers, pointing to her tiredly smiling face. “Thanks, Cassandra,” she says, grinning upwards and making a ‘rock on’ hand gesture. 

“What are you doing up?” Zayn asks. 

“‘M hungry,” she explains, shuffling into the living room with them. “Getting a snack from the kitchen. What are _you_ doing up?”

“We, uh…” Ragh begins and trails off. Kristen gives them each a look over, arching an eyebrow, clearly clocking their scrapes and the slapshot bandage work on Aelwyn. Ragh, Aelwyn, and Zayn exchange glances, knowing already their jig was up. “Just got back from a scrap,” he continues.

“Mm, looks like it,” Kristen nods. “What happened?” she asks. Aelwyn gives her a firm, guarded look. Kristen responds by lifting her hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I won’t tell,” she adds with an easygoing smile. 

Aelwyn keeps her steely veneer intact, but Zayn answers for her. “Got in a tussle with some gang guys at the Black Pit.”

“There’s more of them?” Kristen snorts.

“I know, right?” Zayn agrees. “We said the same thing.”

Kristen scans her eyes over Aelwyn’s bandages again and holds up a hand. “Can I?” she asks. Aelwyn tenses. “Relax, I got this.”

“I’m fine,” Aelwyn insists.

“If you want more scars, sure.”

“We got potions,” Ragh says. 

Kristen snorts. “Those cheapo ones at the gas station? Those barey work.” Aelwyn shoots Ragh a quick glare, and he shrugs. 

“We got it patched up,” Aelwyn insists again.

“No offense, but you did kind of a shit job,” Kristen replies, tilting her head a little. “Here.” Not waiting for permission this time, she mutters a prayer and holds up her hand. Miniature stars swirl and glow around her fingers, and move to surround Aelwyn and Ragh. Their injuries begin to stitch themselves back together, good as new. “There. All good!”

“Tight,” Ragh says, nodding and examining her spellwork. “Thanks, Applebees.” 

Kristen smiles and nods. Aelwyn frowns and gives her a look, uncomfortable. “Hey, no worries. I won’t tell anyone,” Kristen assures her with a wink. Aelwyn sighs and nods her silent thanks.

“Well, _I’m_ going to bed,” Ragh announces with a well-timed yawn. He stretches his arms out and begins down the hallway to his room. “G’night, guys.”

“See you in the morning,” Zayn returns, waving him off first, then to the girls. He phases through the wall and disappears further into the manor.

“You want a snack too?” Kristen offers to Aelwyn. 

“I, uh,” Aelwyn begins, feeling strange. “No. Thanks.”

“Alright,” Kristen resumes on her way down the hall, giving Aelwyn a last quick grin and wave as she goes. “Goodnight!”

“Night,” Aelwyn responds, blinking for a moment, then silently heading upstairs to the wizard tower.

**Author's Note:**

> Quote from the summary is from the musical Wicked.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @supercantaloupe. Thank you for reading!


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